Poison Me
by The Demon Ledger
Summary: Forty-eight tributes go in. One comes out. A price is paid. Warnings for non-explicit violence, child prostitution, and explicit swearing.
1. Chapter 1

_Happy reading! Hope you enjoy this new story._

It has been six months.

It has been six months, and yet I still can feel the blood; sticky, hot, wet; it coats my bare hands, it drips soundlessly from the unstaunchable wounds. It has been six months, and I can still hear the cannon boom. And every night, I still watch my best friend die. Her blood oozes, turns into the ash that rains like snow, that covers me, turns into blood dripping off the axe that buries deep into Diamonds thick skull. I shiver through the cold, pushing my hands deeper into my pockets as I trudge through the snow that piles insurmountably around me, yet continues to drop in thick flurries from the sky. The white powder is untouched here, in the cemetery and for the first time I realize it's because only Merchant class, or someone like myself, can afford to bury people here.

I break through the sea of unencountered snow, feeling out of place. My shoes pinch my feet, having not yet worn them enough to break them in. The coat that hangs off my emaciated frame is too nice for Twelve, wool exterior and fur lined; rabbit or mink. I don't remember. I turn the knife I refuse to drop over and over in my pocket, sharp blade scratching the silky insides.

Their graves are made of a white stone, which is dull in comparison to the white that surrounds them. On one, two names; on the other, one. Her family never forgave me.

Evie had been not only the love of my life, but a good friend. After their deaths, of course, everything felt like a huge joke. Like I would awake one morning and I wouldn't live in the vacant village, heart pounding from nightmares so real I felt like I was there, in the Arena all over again. But, I wasn't; and it wasn't a dream. I'd wake up in the same musty house, in the same too big bed; vacant. Hollow. Alone. It was exactly what the Capitol, and above all, Snow, had wanted for me, after all. Isolation.

My family had been murdered only weeks after my return; after the camera's had faded and the country had moved onto better things. The story was that they were caught selling illegal goods out of their market front store. Evie had been an accident, an unfortunate incident where a Peacekeeper became too trigger happy. I brush a gloved hand over their graves, side-by-side in the barren yard. Snow falls off in sheets, it's icy tendrils laying over their still months fresh mounds. I kneel before them, not saying anything, but wishing in my heart that I had the words to. I can feel the corners of my eyes begin to sting with tears, but crying isn't an option. Not with the Tour beginning in just over an hour and my prep team and escort arriving so soon.

"Mitch," I recognize the voice but still start, hand going to my pocket. "Hey, hey. It's just me." James Everdeen lays a hand on my shoulder, and I look up to see brown leather and then his deep grey eyes boring into mine.

"Fuck, James." I say, standing to face my long-time friend. He looked different, somehow, in between saying goodbye to him before the Quell and coming back a man. Older, rougher perhaps. He and Maggie Neal, Maysilee's best friend, had gotten married, of course. Their house was deep in the Seam, close to the Meadow, but closer to the fence where James entered to hunt. Farther than ever from my home in the Village.

"Didn't expect to see you out before the Tour." he mutters. There's a moment of awkward silence before he pulls me into a strong hug. I clap him on the back before pulling away to face the graves again. "So, today's the day."

"Yeah." I reply, voice low.

"Maggie and I… we wanted to see you off. Are we on the list?" he pushes back from me, scanning the surrounding area with hunter's eyes.

"Yeah." I repeat. "'Course." I turn away from him, from the graves. From everything. "I gotta get back home."

I don't hear his reply; I leave before he can protest, footsteps lunging hard through the snow. I feel further from him than ever before.

* * *

"Oh! Darling, look at you. You're so skinny." says Veridia, gripping me by the arm. She sidles past me and into my home. I watch her flutter about listlessly as my stylist and prep team come streaming in. "And this house! Oh, how quaint." I scoff slightly, feeling ill-at-ease as Digit scowls at me.

"What?" I spit.

"Why are you so thin, Haymitch?" she cocks her head to the side before reaching forward suddenly; I tense up as she gently tugs on the brittle ends of my hair. "Did you do something to your hair?"

"It grew out, I s'pose." I reply, drawing away. She humphs, and the next hour of primping and prodding rushes by in a frenzy of furs and powders. Eventually I'm standing at the train station after a rushed interview on my "talent" for carving, which isn't as much of a talent as it is a way to keep my mind off the demons in the walls. I smile to the cameras, trying to look tall and less bleak, but feeling dead inside. I spot Maggie and James across the way, and they rush over to me just before I'm supposed to board; my smile grows strong and true, and as lonely and depressed as I am, I truly do miss my friends.

"We'll see you in two weeks, Mitch." whispers Maggie, clutching my hand tightly. Her bright eyes buzz with unsaid words. James leans in to hug me, hands patting my back gently.

"Try and keep sane." he whispers, and I laugh as if he's said something funny.

"Sure, sure." I board the train, not looking at anything, trying my hardest not to even look at the cameras. The train doors shut behind me, my prep team runs wildly about, preparing things as they should. I sit myself in a velvet chair in the bar car, the only quiet place on the train. There's no one to talk to his time; it's so hushed in this room, only the whir of the train, the chug of the wheels, and the clink of glass bottles against each other. I feel out of place here, even now in my Capitol clothing, at my most attractive. _Beauty base zero, and build up from there!_ The voice of Miriam, the calmest and quietest of my prep team, still rings in my ear. Everything feels warped, as if tained by the lives of fifty people.

I shudder and close my eyes for a moment, concentrating on the rhythmic rocking of the train.

 _"Abernathy, hey." says a small voice in my ear. This voice is accompanied by a poke in the arm from a thin finger. I look up to see a shock of blonde hair and blue eyes leaning over me in my chair, where I sit, unmoving, in the bar car. I hadn't registered the feeling of falling asleep, but night looms outside, contrasting sharply to the white lights of the train. I squint against it, blinking sleep from my eyes._

 _"What?" I ask, voice barely audible. I'm still shaking from the Reaping. Maysilee, the girl - woman - standing over me, is the eldest of our group, having turned eighteen in late May, only two months prior to this sticky July. I, myself, was on the verge of seventeen, Annabelle Whitaker just thirteen, with Robert Young being, almost ironically, only just twelve within the past week. She stands back, a vision encompassing the fine life of a Merchant girl, hands plastered to her hips in dismay of my antisocial tendencies._ Well, I'm not here to make friends. _We were the only district left mentorless, the only Victor from 12 dying a few years before the Quell. This Quell. Our Quell._

 _"Well?" she says, as if I'm supposed to be aware of her intentions. There's a pause, pregnant with awkward silence, and I shift uncomfortably in my seat._

 _"Yeah?" I reply after the moment had stretched too long._

 _"Are we gonna drink in here? Or are you gonna sit here and sulk like you do at school." she laughs humorlessly, a sharp chuckle accompanied by a smirk that cuts me wrong._

 _"Are… are we allowed to drink?" I ask feebly, looking towards the stoic man standing behind the bar._

 _"We're being shipped off to die for a game show, Little Mitchie, I think we can do whatever we damned well please."_

My breath hitches at the memory; Maysilee may have played up the good and pure side of her prosperous childhood, but her wild streak was vivid and more than true around me. I open my eyes, training them on the Avox who stands just behind the bar. He's different somehow, the smirk on his face less pronounced, the eyes more forgiving.

"Can I get somethin'?" I ask, rising. The man gestures almost sarcastically to the drink filled bottles behind him, scorching me with a tremulous look. "Yeah, yeah, I see 'em. Gimme the strongest shit you got." He looks at me for a moment; eyes narrowing, as if sizing me up; his violet hair is striking against overly pronounced cheekbones and light yellow eyes. He pauses before reaching beneath the bar, pulling out an intricately decorated flask, and shoots me a wink as he passes it over the solid wood. I steel myself for the harsh burn of the first sip, but find the cool liquor sliding down my throat easily, leaving a warm trail all the way to my stomach.

"Thanks," I mutter, moving away. I can't sit here anymore; not with the memory of her first words to me plowing through my head. My fingers trace the delicate pattern etched into the silver front of the flask as I find my way to my compartment. It's also different somehow; I assume now that it will be every time I ride the train, Capitol fashion not stopping at the overdone clothes of my escort and prep-team. I wonder briefly when dinner will be, then sink onto the lush and large bed. My hands spread over the blanket, which is thick with some sort of downy feather, and decorated with intricate patterns that form some sort of flower. Too exhausted to pay attention, I toe my shoes off and slip under the blanket fully dressed, my eyes heavy from drink sliding shut without thought.

 _Boom. Boom. Boom._

 _I count the blasts, my hand tucked tightly into Maysilee's as we crouch in the thick and tall grass. Robert and Annabelle sit a few feet away, sniveling. We'd known the Twelve had never come away from a bloodbath victorious, had run so far, so fast, and my chest ached. I was still tired and dizzy from lack of sleep, having tossed and turned in my bed all the night before until I'd drunk enough to make myself pass out; my hangover was a glorious reminder of that. Throbbing head, squinting eyes, the whole lot; Maysilee gave me a simpering look, one of pity but also of empathy. She was suffering from the same affliction._

 _"That's sixteen," I say quietly to the rest a moment after the cannon blasts had stopped._

 _"Who do you think is still out there?" whispers Robert, his voice grave and gravelly._

 _"Definitely the Careers," replies Maysilee, squeezing my hand before letting it drop from her grasp._

 _"You think it's safe to go to the Cornucopia yet?" Robert asks, moving closer._

 _"No," says Maysilee with that same bitter laugh I'd heard countless times on the train. "Best bet, we wait a day and then scope it out; Careers should have all the need before they have to search out food and water."_

 _"What makes you think there won't be food and water in there?" I reply with a snarl._

 _"With forty-eight of us?" she sniggers again. "Fat chance Gamemakers would let anyone stay at the horn too long." Maysilee scoffs. "C'mon, let's get to the woods. It'll be safer there."_

 _We move slowly, bent double to keep hidden by shoulder high grass. I can hear Annabelle's short breathing to prevent sobs from wracking her body. It grates on my nerves; I wish she'd just accept her fate already, as I had. Being Reaped second, after Robert's name had been called and we all still stood with bated breath, hut, yes. In any regular Hunger Games, we would've stood silent in the crowd, I would've gone home to my mother and Evie. James and Maggie would watch with hand clutched tight until the fateful moment their best friends death arrived. But instead I walk in a crouch behind Maysilee, eyes on the wide open space between the grass and the forest._

 _"Wait." says Maysilee, holding up a hand. I can tell she's thinking, can practically see the gears grinding in her head. She's scanning the forest, head shifting back and forth before she turns to me with wide, scared eyes. "Look. I aced that damned fauna test, and for good reason apparently. Maggie is my best friend, and… well, she practically runs that apothecary with her mom and James, right," she pauses to look at me for a moment, and I understand where this is going, "so I fucking better know a hell of a lot about the forest, the woods, and all that stupid plant shit." her voice lowers as she scans the children behind us. "Don't trust anything you see in there. Everything - and I mean everything - will either kill or cripple you. Plants, animals, whatever." I nod. "Did you guys hear what I said?"_

 _I look back to the smaller members of our group to watch them shake their heads._

 _"Just be careful." says Maysilee through tight lips. "Very careful."_

I wake with a start at a quick trio of raps on my door. "Haymitch! Get up!" comes the shrill voice of my escort. _No longer my escort, my companion._ "We let you sleep through dinner, but now it's time to eat. We're pulling into Eleven AT eleven," her chiming giggle rings through the steel of my door, "and you need to look your best." _As if that matters._ I have to look my best for the families of dead children, one of which I'd murdered; had cut her down in cold blood, without mercy. I rise from my bed, feeling the rain move to and fro as we hurtle down the track. I pay no mind to the state of my room, knowing an Avox would clean it while I am absent from it. I shed my clothing, leaving a trail all the way to the shower, where I step in while scratching my slightly grubby skin. I push the door to the shower open; it's pearly white tiled this time, and the buttons flash. I punch a carefully pathed pattern, water perfectly warm and soap lathered just enough. I scrub with a bristle brush until my skin is raw under it, and step out; my yell at the sight of the prep team standing before me echos through the room. Their grins widen at the sight of me stark naked.

"Beautiful." whispers Ophelia, eyes round.

"As always," whispers Hammy.

I cover myself with a towel despite their protests, and exit the confined quarters of the bathroom to the relative safety of my bedroom.

"Can you guys ease up on the whole… naked surprise shtick?" I ask, reaching for the flask I'd left beside my bed. "It was funny the first time, but not so much anymore." I watch them nod, these three Capitolites so pea-brained I could use tiny words and still confuse them. I hold the towel at my waist tighter as they grin.

"Well?" says Miriam, a pinkish woman with gold hair and very small hands. The word brings me back, yet again, to memories of Maysilee and our first exchange, and I practically slap Miriam across the face.

"Well, what?" I return, fist clutching tighter still to repress my want to scream at the whole lot of frivolous sissies.

"Well, let's get you ready!" Hammy practically squeals, his bronzed skin glittering in the false light.

"Right." _Ready._

 _A/N: Alright, it's new. I know. It'll be an adjustment for me to write exclusively from Haymitch's point of view. I hope you enjoyed this first chapter, because there will DEFINITELY be more to come._

 _Remember to follow me at .com, for updates about when I will be posting and sneak peeks at new chapters for all of my Hunger Games fics._

 _Favorite/follow/review if you enjoyed. It really helps my writing._

 _Happy Victory Tour. Get ready for a really intense flashback to Haymitch killing one of Eleven's tributes next chapter. Loves. ~B_


	2. Chapter 2

_Okay. I have no excuse except: Life has been absolutely insane. I went from working part time and going to school full time to quitting school and working full time, I got promoted, and I went back to california._

 _I am now back, settled, and ready to start a new adventure in my life, which includes (hopefully) doing more writing. No promises, because I know I can't keep those when it comes to writing and I will do spurts of really consistent writing that gets more and more lax over time._

 _How about I treat you guys to a nice, long chapter of Haymitch's life._

 _Again, come follow me on tumblr at haymitchabernathyisbae (I cannot put the link here or in my bio, but I will do more posting there more often because it's easier to use on my phone. I will try to post once a week, hopefully friday nights while I'm at work._

 _I love you all so much for sticking with these stories, I know I'm a little more unprofessional than I should be. I'm gonna try to get as much of these stories finished before I get back into a bad spell though._

 _I'm also going to put a list of stories I want to do up on both my profile and on my tumblr. So please follow me there for more steady updates, and I love you. Stay sane, friends._

 _~B_

* * *

 _ **This story contains mature topics regarding alcoholism, the effects of war, death, abuse, and attempted suicide.**_

 _ **I do not own any of Suzanne Collins' works or characters, and I am not a paid publisher of fanfiction.**_

 _ **This chapter in particular is set during The Games themselves. You will get a paragraph of background, and the rest is set in the past. Thank you for reading.**_

* * *

I sit at the table, surrounded by the wealthy community of Eleven, which seems to be smaller than that even of Twelve. The mayor, his wife, and their young daughter stare me down with the same round, brown eyes and out-of-place smiles. We eat our salad in silence. Even Verida, usually up-beat and pert, never _not_ talking, seems to take the silence in stride and chews her slightly wilted salad. It's all I can do not to scream. The thought of sitting here with the same people who have so little care and so much disregard for the state of their District fills me with such contempt, rage…

I swallow a bite that has turned sour on my tongue and reach up, napkin in hand, to wipe my face. I clear my throat and open my mouth when my escort shoots me a stern, long, reproachful look. She shimmies a bit in her seat, swallowing and clearing her throat in turn.

"Mayor Turner, may I ask you how it is you have such lovely oranges in the height of winter?" Veridia says.

"Well," he responds, looking pleased. His tone brightens as he begins a long-winded speech about greenhouses, climate, the seasonal difference between this part of Panem and ours, deeply hidden in the mountains. I groan internal and return to my salad, wishing to be anywhere else. As my mind begins to drift, I look across the table to the young girl who resembles so heartily the child that was killed in the bloodbath of The Games. She stares me down, not eating, but looking at me in such an intense way I can almost feel her fury emanating across the table.

"I knew her. I knew all of them." The girl interrupts her father's rambling speech. Her voice is light, as though talking about the weather, but I can see in her eyes she is all spit and fire. "They were good people, and they died, and we're just sitting here talking about oranges." She shoved her chair back and stormed out of the room. I'd never seen someone act that way before, especially not someone of merchant class.

The mayor sits in silence, eyes wide. "I am, oh goodness, I am so sorry about Rose. She's not usually that way." He excuses himself, and two Peacekeepers follow him out of the room. His wife smiles at all of us in a small, meek way.

"Well, I suppose I should escort you all to the train. Thank you very much for coming tonight." she says, lips and fingers trembling.

The walk out to the train, which is stationed just behind the mayor's house, is a short but tense one. The sound of Veridia's clicking heels and the Peacekeepers stomping boots has me shaking in an almost uncontrollable fury. I slam onto the train, ignoring the cameras trained on me. No use giving the impression that I'm happy about my situation, not that it matters much. The Capitol already loathes me for my win.

I sink onto a bed that has been changed since I was on the train but four hours ago. The feathery quilt is a different pattern now, too bright for sleep, yet I sink underneath it, flask clenched too tightly in my hand. I drink long, deep pulls, and wait for the sweet alcohol to lull me into sleep.

* * *

"Good evening everyone! Welcome to the Second Quarter Quell. Please remain stationed on your platforms and wait for the countdown. You may now enter the tubes."

I look to my stylist, who nods and gestures me a little to energetically in. My stomach hurts. I try to remember my plan, but my brain is fogged with fear and a hangover so deep my eyes burn even at the artificial light. I step into the tube and await its slow ascent.

"Ten seconds."

I stare down at shoes that contour to my feet, not quite the boots from home; these are stronger, thicker, have more grip. They almost stick to the slip-proof surface of the elevation platform I stand on. Slowly, it begins to rise. I kneel down, feeling sick rising in my throat. The last thing I need is to throw up in this closed tube. The chute opens and bright yellow sunlight streams onto me from above. I stand just before reaching the top, shielding my eyes from the light of the Arena.

The Cornucopia is bigger than anything I had ever seen, a massive structure that is surrounded by fifty platforms, all bringing up children and almost-adults of different heights and builds and - with some - terrifying strength. I see Maysilee standing just four people away from me, shaking with fear. She catches my eye and jerks her head just slightly. I jerk my head in the direction of the other two from twelve slowly enough to make it look almost natural. She nods imperceptibly. We stare at the giant, gold horn, filled to the brim with things that, from this distance, I can barely make out. I look around us; we stand in a meadow, shimmering in an almost irridescent way. I squint; there is a mountain in the distance, tip submerged in pearly white clouds. To the west is more of the same, shimmering field. To the north, a forest which leads to the mountain. I turn my head slightly. Just to my right, tall, thick grasses that scream to be hidden in.

"Ten."

I recount the plan in my head.

"Nine."

The plan me and Maysilee had thought of on the roof the night before.

"Eight."

Grab the other members of Twelve -

"Seven."

together, try to get something - anything from the Cornucopia -

"Six."

and run -

"Five."

don't die -

"Four."

don't fight -

"Three."

don't even make eye contact with each other -

"Two."

just grab each other, grab something -

"One."

and -

The gun goes off, a bang so loud it rings in my ears, and I bolt off my platform so fast I feel my feet catching in the shining grass. These shoes were not made for fast travel, but long. I keep going, swinging my arms hard to keep myself balanced. Robert is next to me in an instant, but I see Annabelle rooted to the spot on her platform, crouched with her hands over her head. I can hear her screaming, but make a beeline for the Cornucopia.

"HAYMITCH!" Maysilee is pulling Annabelle off the platform, sprinting away, running from the Careers and the Bloodbath, and me. I look to her, taking my eyes off the Cornucopia just long enough for a tall Career to throw all his weight into me and knock me breathless, off my feet, and sprawling into the shining grasses below me. I scramble away, Robert dragging me up with him, and turn, and we dead sprint away from the Cornucopia into the tall grass. It covers me up to my shoulders, Robert just above his head. Maysilee is crouched fifty feet in, a tired yet stern look on her face. "What the FUCK were you thinking?!" she whispers, but it feels like a yell.

"I was doing -"

"That plan was as good as thrown out the window when Annabelle couldn't get her ass off the platform and away from the Bloodbath." Annabelle sobs harder into her hands, eyes wide and red. "Shut up! Jesus, you'd think you want us all to die!" Maysilee turns and pushes through the grass.

We take turns watching for a while at the divide between the tall grass and the empty stretch of field. We wandered for a while before finding ourselves back at the Cornucopia field, tired, hungry, and having listened to the Bloodbath cannon blasts. They still rang in my head. Which eighteen children had died? Who had come away victorious? Were we the only district that was still together? I can see the Careers from my place stationed at watch, yet I'm too nervous to move out subtly to count them. The darker it gets, the more I want to move into the woods. The woods are where it's safe, where I'd always felt safest with James, with Maggie, even with Evie, my girl. I looked back to where Robert and Annabelle lay together, almost sleeping. Maysilee has her eyes trained on me, and I look at her, smiling.

"What?" she mouths, crossing her brows. I suppose smiling isn't the proper response to the situation I was currently in, but the harder and longer I look at her, the more beautiful she becomes. I shake my head and look away, trying to think harder of Evie.

 _"Look, Haymitch, I see the way you look at Maysilee. Why haven't you talked to her yet?"_

 _"Evie, you're my girl."_

 _"No, Mitch, I'm not. We're just friends, remember?"_

 _"Ha, alright."_

 _"That's what you wanted before this Reaping! You're scared you'll be drawn or I'll be drawn and we'll be alone, isn't that what this is?"_

 _"Evie, shut up, alright? Just friends, got it."_

 _"Plus, you've always loved Maysilee. You never stay when she's with Maggie, you've never even spoken to her. It's like you're afraid."_

 _"I'm not afraid of shit."_

 _"Then fucking do something!"_

 _Evie storms out of my bedroom. I hear the front door slam, hard and loud against its wooden frame. I lay back on my bed and stare at the ceiling._

"Haymitch." Maysilee's hand on my arm stirs me.

"Hmm? What?" I say, distracted by my last memory of the girl I was supposed to love.

"Let's move, the Careers are all sleeping. We can slip down to the edge of the grass and cut across behind the 'copia." she whispers, and then moves to wake the other two. "Remember," she says, hushed. "Careful."

We move together towards the edge of the tall grass, and the hurriedly, and hunched over, sprint behind the Cornucopia, into the woods. We all spring upright fifty feet in and run as fast as we can, as hard as we can, until all we can see around us is woods. A stream trickles nearby, and Annabelle runs to it before Maysilee can grab her, dropping to her knees.

"Annabelle, no-" Annabelle dips her hands in and moves them to her mouth, drinking deep and hard.

"What?" she says, looking back. "It's just water." Maysilee's expression turns sad, almost hurting. Annabelle shrugs and turns back to the water, drinking more and more. Maysilee shakes her head. Suddenly Annabelle freezes, back rigid.

"Fuck." I mutter as Annabelle coughs and sputters and falls face first into the running water, which turns red after it passes her. The cannon blasts.

"What-" Robert starts.

"Everything in this forest - everything in this Arena will kill you. The only food you will find will be at the Cornucopia. Which means I was wrong bringing us in here. Fuck!" Maysilee kicks a rock, which rolls away a little. I move towards her as she begins to break down. "What the fuck do we do?! The Careers will guard that Cornucopia until-"

"Let's break up." says Robert, a little fearfully.

"What?"

"The kid's right. Let's break up." I say suddenly, moving away from her.

"What are you talking about?"

"Just for now." I murmur to her.

"Fine, whatever. Good fucking luck." Maysilee storms away and soon, she is lost to the trees.

"Kid, good luck." I say, turning to him.

"What? I only said that to get her out of here. She's a bitch, and we don't need her. I want to win, and you're gonna help me." says Robert, voice stronger than it had been since I'd met him on the train.

"Uh, no." I say, laughing.

"Uh, yes. You're stronger and smarter than me, and you're going to help me, or I'm going to kill you." Robert lunges forward, grabbing me and throwing me to the ground. "Got it?" He sits on my chest, hands around my throat. "GOT IT?"

I push against him, grabbing his shirt and struggling against his weight. "F-fine." I splutter. He pushes up off of me, choking me for a moment. I lay on the ground, stunned.

"Let's go," he says. "I have a plan to get food and weapons from the Careers." He turns his back on me and begins to walk away. I watch him from my spot on the ground and think, hard. A dangerous, reckless twelve year-old was the last thing I needed to keep track of in the games. I'd be better off on my own. My heart begins to race as I realize my only option. He had to die.

* * *

 _Again! I'm so sorry for not posting. I try to promise to make posts more consistent. I love you all. Please read, favorite, follow and review. I am planning out a writing schedule and will try to post one chapter for each story a week. Follow me on tumblr: .com ._


	3. Chapter 3

_Two chapters in two days?! What is this madness!? I have a lot of free time right now. Happy reading, stay sane friends._

 _~B_

* * *

 _ **This story contains mature topics regarding alcoholism, the effects of war, death, abuse, and attempted suicide.**_

 _ **I do not own any of Suzanne Collins' works or characters, and I am not a paid publisher of fanfiction.**_

 _ **This chapter in particular is set during The Games themselves. It will finish in the present, when he gets to District Eight on the Victory Tour Thank you for reading.**_

* * *

"Robert, wait up!" I scramble off the ground and jog to his side. "What the fuck kind of plan do you have for this… Career problem we seem to have?"

He shoots me a look of utter disdain. "As if I'm gonna tell you so you can just go running back to your girlfriend after you kill me. I know what you're thinking right now, and I'll tell you right now, it won't work. I'm smaller and faster than you, and I've been practicing for this moment. I knew it would come eventually, with the amount of tesserae I've been taking out. You've seen my family. I'm the oldest. Twelve years-fucking-old, and I'm the oldest." He punches a tree. "Ten times my name was in that bowl. Ten times, and more years to come? I might as well have volunteered if I hadn't been chosen, just to get it over with."

I lag back, rolling my eyes as he tells his sad, sad story.

"Look, kid, I get it, you're ready for whatever comes your way, but are you really ready to take on a pack of Careers eight, ten, even twelve strong? Cause for fucksake, I'm not."

He whips around, pulling a knife I didn't know he had. "You see this? I grabbed this while you were too busy getting your ass kicked at the Cornucopia. I know what the fuck I'm doing. Do you, Haymitch?" He lunges towards me, as if to stab me, but instead the knife leaves his hand and embeds itself into a tree ten or fifteen yards away.

"Great, you can defend yourself. But you think one knife is enough to fight of people more trained, more skillful, larger than you?"

"No, but I think they'll be too distracted taking care of you to care about a little kid, what do you think?"

I look at him, eyes wide. I understood his plan now. Use me for bait, lure the careers - or most of them - away from their hold of goods, so he can murder whoever is left and take what he wants. It's a smart plan, I'd give him that, but I wasn't going to let myself be wolf-meat. I nod, and start thinking of ways to get him unaware. Killing one of my own hadn't been in my plan from the beginning, but it was an unfortunate reality of the moment. I watch him walk ahead, waving his hands as if carrying on a conversation, but I stay rooted to the spot. I could run, but would he catch me with his knife? I could try to disarm him, but what was he capable of? Fear ran cold through my veins. Was I about to die to one of my own? Wasn't that what I was planning to do to him?

Without warning, he begins to scream, and comes sprinting back towards me, knife clutched in his small hand. He runs past me before I can see what he's running from. A giant rat, bigger than I'd ever seen one, with deep red eyes and foam collecting at its mouth, comes running toward me, eyes moving from Robert to me. I run, not daring to turn my back on it, and skirt around it, watching as it jumps toward me and then looks back in the direction of Robert. It hisses and speeds in the direction of Robert. I run the same way I saw Maysilee leave, relieved I don't have to fight Robert, and wait for the cannon.

It takes an hour to find evidence of Maysilee. Flowers had been torn out of the ground, revealing bubbling, acidic looking fluid in the roots. The cannon booms twice, and I know, or hope, Robert is one of the victims. I climb into the belly of a tree whose roots had grown tall and the engorged ground has made a cozy hole under it. For a moment I hope to sleep, and then realize I have no way to defend myself if found. I pull branches down from the knotted pine, careful not to let them touch my face, as my hands burn when the exposed, green wood brushes against them.

The Capitol Anthem plays loud and clear throughout the arena. The flickering, glowing Seal shines in the sky. The entirety of three, a boy from four, the girls from five, six and eight, three of four from seven, and a girl from nine and ten, and all of eleven are dead. Robert's and Annabelles faces shine in the sky, the number twelve hanging beneath their stark faces. Robert earned no loyalty playing a sniveling brat in the interview, and he earned no loyalty turning me into a piece of meat for the Career pack to munch on, I'm sure. Though I've not received much from the sponsors in ways of gifts either. I lay beneath layers of sticky branches, feeling sweaty and not at all comfortable. Pulling up, I push the tree limbs away from me with bare hands, causing small welts to form again, and shake my head of cloudiness.

I still needed to find Maysilee; my stomach growled in resistance as I begin to stand. I could feel my hands shaking. Dizzy, sweaty, and starving, I try to locate the edge of the woods. We weren't too far in when I had to run from the feral rodent, but I'd since lost my way, burying myself in a tree to rest for just a moment. I look around, the darkness disorienting me.

"Shit." I hear footsteps behind me, growing closer fast than I had anticipated, and spin around. Three of the huge, hulking Career men are charging towards me, knives glinting in the artificial moonlight that shines through the trees. I turn and dead sprint away, tripping on branches and catching myself on roots every few feet. The farther I run, the closer their pounding footsteps seem to be. I dare to look back instead of at the ground; they're right on me. I catch myself on a root and go careening into the ground, sprawling out before pushing up and crawling until I'm on my feet again, but one of the giant boys crashes on top of me, flips me over, and grins.

"Ah-ha! Got you, Abernathy. Look at you, you're shaking. Scared, boy?" He says, drawing a thin pattern on my shirt front with his knife. He doesn't press hard, but I can still feel its sharp blade through the loose fabric that hangs off my frame. I gather up all my strength and spit right in his face, then shove him backwards and land hard on top of him, wrestling the knife out of his grip.

"What the fuck, goddamn it!" one of the other Careers moans, "Bastion, you fucking had him!" I lunge the blade into Bastions throat, pulling it out quickly and jumping off. The cannon blasts only a few moments later.

"Holy fuck." I hear the whisper of branches behind me and swing around, expecting another career to careen out of the bushes, but Maysilee springs up, and two projectiles come flying out away from me, towards the Careers. It hits one in the leg, and the other takes off sprinting back the way they came. The hulking career cries out, grabbing his leg as he falls to the ground.

"What the fuck is this?" he screams, agonized.

"Your death." she breathes. He groans, louder and louder, until finally it stops, and the cannon booms, and she steps out from behind her hiding place of bushes and towards me.

"Break up, huh?" I can barely see her through the darkness, and the knife in my hand feels heavy with the weight of the dead tribute. "Yeah, right, as if you'd ever make it out of here without me, Abernathy."

"Look, I was just… I wanted you to be safe, and you seemed to be doing better on your own. We were weighing you down." I mutter.

"Saw Robert died. Was that you, or someone else?"

I laugh. "A rat." She looks at me for a moment, then a smile breaks onto her face.

"Ha, alright, well. One less for us to have to fight off, right?" Her tone is sad for a moment. "Look, let's work together for as long as we can, and then we can decide later what to do. For now, there are too many of them, and not enough of us."

I stride towards her and pull her in close to me, hugging her tight. She still smells of the Capitol; roses and lavender and some other smell I can't quite place.

"Maysilee Donner, you have yourself a deal."

* * *

I stand now, overlooking the crowd in Eight, heart pounding as I recite line after line of Capitol authorized drivel.

"Your four tributes fought well, and their sacrifice is not overlooked, but will always be remembered as a testament to the function and endurance of this great nation. Thank you for providing your textiles and clothing to the rest of Panem and the great Capitol itself. Your hard work is appreciated and smiled upon. We are all of us united, both Victors and vanquished, in one common goal: Panem today, Panem tomorrow, Panem forever." I close my eyes as the required applause is smattered amongst the crowd, and am escorted off stage by the gripping hand of a Peacekeeper. I pull away once inside, the creaking of the door my means of escape.

"Bathroom?" I ask the Peacekeeper. He nods, points down the left hall of the Justice Building, and I proceed to walk as quickly as possible towards it. Once out of sight of the Peacekeeper, I break into a dead sprint, slamming into the bathroom and bolting the door shut behind me. Breaking protocol was not what I needed to be keeping on my itinerary, but I could barely breath. The children of Eight's faces had haunted me, the boys I had both watched die and murdered in cold blood. The further I got into this Victory Tour, the harder it was to keep my composure. I lean over the porcelain toilet, retching as nothing but alcohol comes up. I stand, looking myself in the mirror. I'm pale - made paler by the fact that I was just sick. Not only that, but my breathing is heavy and my eyes are sunken into my face and my cheeks are hollow. I haven't eaten but bites of my meals and I'm not looking forward to meeting the President again, because I'm sure he'll have less than kind words for me.

Tears well in my eyes and I can barely breathe, but I crinkle my brow and move out of the bathroom as a Peacekeeper comes down the hall to find me.

"Everything okay?" He says, eyes narrow.

"Fine. Sour stomach." I shrug, easing into a monotone voice that hides both my fear and my anger. I had another dinner to get to.

We board the train after yet another uneventful dinner. Part of me almost misses the spitfire child from Eleven, with her dark blue eyes that remind me too much of home.

Seven, six, five, all speed by in a blur of fancy people and poor citizens, the same dull monologue rolling off my tongue in my same bored voice, though with each District, it becomes a little more slurred and I become a little more loose lipped at the dinner table. My mentor ground her heel into my feet as I mention the state of Six, its citizens bedraggled and its technology a little worse for wear.

"What IS your industry, anyway?" I say, moving my wine around in my glass. I stare at the Mayor, whose demeanor has turned dark, and he glares at me.

"We make the cars, the trains, all the transportation you see here, in the Capitol, and even in Twelve. That's us."

"Yeah, but, you use Three's technology, Two's metals, Five's power… What's truly yours here?" I slur, lounging back a little harder than I mean to. My chair skids back across the floor and I tumble out, spilling wine across myself and the ground. I laugh as I rise, shooing the Avox who comes rushing to my aid away. "Don't- don't! I got it!" My tone rises to anger, and I grab the pristine white napkin I haven't touched yet off the table, throwing it on the ground and absorbing a fair amount of the wine by wiping it around with my too tight shoe.

"We should go." says Veridia.

"Yes, maybe you should." says the Mayor, whose name I'd already forgotten. "I hope you have a fair rest of your Victory Tour, Mr. Abernathy."

"Cool, thanks." I say, picking up the soaking rag and dropping it on the table as I let the Peacekeeper escort me out of the room, through a deserted alley, and onto the train. The station is empty of reporters, be it because they've decided to flock to the Career districts, or because of my drunkenness, I do not know. The doors slide shut behind me, and I stand in front of Veridia, who has crossed arms and a furrowed brow.

"You need to not act like this, Haymitch. We're only five days from the Capitol. What is wrong with you?" her tone is filled with condescension, and I can't do anything but stare at her, dumbfounded.

"Wrong with… what is wrong with me?" I murmur, locking gaze with her. "It's only been six months since I came back from the Arena. Where I killed people - children. Where I watched my best friend die. And this… Victory Tour? It's just a reminder of all the people that died there. Why would…" I shake my head and walk away.

"Don't walk away from me, Haymitch." Veridia says, stomping after me.

"Do. NOT. Follow me." I say, beginning to lose my temper. "Follow me, and I will not be kind or generous or gentle anymore." Veridia stops in her tracks, face turning paler than it already is beneath layers of makeup. "I will finish this Victory Tour. I will finish it the only way I know how, and that is mostly incapacitated. And then I will go home, and I will disappear until you need me again. But-" I pause, watching her eyes well up with tears. She shakes slightly, perhaps fearful, perhaps furious. "But I cannot do this sober and return home sane."

I walk away from her now, leaving her shaking and crying and feeling worse than I did when I stood on stage in front of all those people, who looked at me as if I was garbage. Maybe I was. Maybe all of this, the grandour, the celebration, the feasts, was for nothing because nothing would come of me. I had no family anymore; James walked on eggshells around me, afraid to bring up Maysilee, Evie, anyone who could cause me too much grief. Maggie could barely look at me, the loss of her friend too much to take. She still had a year in the bowl; without tesserae she would be fine.

I sit in the bar car, in the same seat I'd always occupied to play thoughts over and over in my head. My family had died for my ineptitude at staying the shining, sparkling image of the Capitol's victory. My victory had come in the form of amber and clear liquid that flowed endlessly from the mouth of privilege. Barely holding myself above water, I come to the conclusion that to keep my remaining family safe, I needed to fade away.

* * *

 _Okay, enough sad Haymitch for now. I know you guys are waiting for something more eventful, more recounting of his time in the games, and maybe more of him mentoring? But, enough said. He's sad, he's going to keep being sad, but I will post more of his sadness next week. I'm gonna try to post this story on Thursdays and Saturdays, and I'll post other stories other days of the week, when and if I get the chance to._

 _Please remember to review, favorite, follow, and keep reading. Thanks, stay sane friends._

 _~B_


	4. Chapter 4

_A/N: I know it's been almost a year since I've updated this story. Feel free to reread if you need to and don't forget to review and follow so you never miss what will hopefully be more frequent updates. I'll be able to write a lot at the end of this next term, towards the beginning of summer._

 _Anyways! I hope you like this chapter. I've been thinking about Haymitch a lot since I wrote a couple chapters of my very long fic Hands and Fire from his perspective. I wanna make sure I do his story justice, so please make sure to let me know if you find any inconsistencies with the books. I try to do as much research as possible but I sometimes can't find all of the clues at once!_

 _Loves! ~B_

* * *

 _ **This story contains mature topics regarding alcoholism, the effects of war, death, abuse, and attempted suicide.**_

 _ **I do not own any of Suzanne Collins' works or characters, and I am not a paid publisher of fanfiction.**_

 _ **We're going to skip completely over Districts Six and Seven for time constraints.**_ _Thanks for reading!_

* * *

The sky outside the window is dark again. I don't remember falling asleep, but I suppose I wouldn't. I told Veridia I wasn't playing nice anymore. She'd left me alone since then, left me to the alcohol cabin and my thoughts and my bed. I couldn't remember the last time I'd slept so soundly than I did just now. It felt like no time had passed at all. Maybe hardly any had. I rise, my head swimming still. I couldn't have been asleep for long then. I wonder if anyone else is sleeping. My escort? The Avox who boarded this train on command? I close my eyes. But everytime I close my eyes I see Maysilee, and my heart aches. I want to stop this train, or jump off it. Anything to end what could only be seen as a torture campaign. From the inside, that's all it is. Torture. And I am screaming to be released.

* * *

When I wake up again, later, it's daylight. The train is slowing down as it pulls into Five, and I want to go to sleep again. I pull myself out of bed, stiff from sleeping poorly. My hands started to shake a few days ago and they haven't stopped. The booze car is only next door, and as I make my tired way into it, I'm stopped by one of the train guards. He's all grey, from his head to his slick, leather shoes. His face is covered by a grey, plastic screen; it's dark, I can't see through it, but I can feel his eyes on me.

"Move." I say, attempting to shove by him. He doesn't speak, just stares down at me, faceless, and doesn't move to either side to let me pass. "My god, I need to get through, MOVE!" I shove him, hard, and he steps sideways to catch himself.

"Haymitch." says a voice behind me. I whip around to see Veridia standing in the doorway to the sleeper car, one eyebrow raised. She doesn't have makeup on and her dark hair is falling in tendrils around her face. "We need to go now. You don't have time. And the bar car is off limits to you now." I stare at her, then turn back towards the bar car, slam my hand on the door button, and enter as the doors slide open then back shut behind me. There's no lock, so there's nothing preventing her from following me in. One of the Avox's stands behind the counter, looking sternly at me. He shakes his head when I walk up to the counter; I glare at him in response. We stand, eyes locked, in silence for a long moment. Finally, he reaches beneath the bar and pulls out a short glass. He drops an ice cube in it from next to him, turns, and grabs a bottle of deep amber liquid off the shelf. He casts me a look, rolls his eyes, then pours a liberal amount into the glass. He pats me on the back of the hand gently, then pushes the glass towards me. This Avox, a man I've come to rely on for silent company and patience in my trips to new places, makes a swift motion, which looks like 'drink'. I nod, then down the drink in one gulp, wincing as I slam the glass down on the counter with unnecessary force.

"Thank you," I say, grimacing. "Really. Thank you." I press my hand into his, which is still on the counter, and when Veridia walks in, arms crossed, unmade brow furrowed, I know what he's done.

"Haymitch."

"Yep. Got it. Thanks again." I turn away from the Avox, my heart pounding in my throat. He's going away and I will never see him again. He's going away, to the sewers of the Capital, or to the place where Avoxes who misbehave go. I will never see him again.

I will never see him again.

I will… never see him again.

This is the thought that beats through my head, the thought about this man, who was kind and generous and saw straight through me without words, ever, who broke rules for me, when I stand in front of the crowd of Five citizens who've gathered in the streets. I don't remember how I got here, I just know I did. I can hear Veridia in my head, her words beating like a tattoo against my skull, battling with my own thoughts.

 _"Selfish, Haymitch, that's what this is. The country of Panem relies on you, to be it's representatives. You're the reason we're even here in the first place. There's no other Victor. It's just you. Understand?" she pauses. "Are you even listening?"_

I rattle off the usual drone that Veridia writes for me. It's pointless, this. I can barely see the audience. Whatever the Avox gave me, it was strong. I wobble side to side, even standing still. I can tell I'm barely intelligible as my words come tumbling out of my mouth. I reach the end of the card that was handed to me before I was roughly pulled out, to walk by myself, in a spotlight, to a microphone. The words stop coming, but I stand still, hearing a hum of slight applause. A Peacekeeper grabs my arm and drags me none too gently off the stage. I stumble into the back as the doors close behind me and the light from the brightly lit stage fades rapidly. I'm hyperventilating now, I can feel it, and I can also feel bile rising up my chest. I lean over and heave, throwing up all over the marble floor of Five's Justice Building, then pass out, shaking and coughing and gagging.

* * *

I awaken in a sterile room, the blinds around me closed. There's a cuff on one wrist and needles in the other. My vision is foggy, as if my eyes have suddenly gone bad. I wipe them with the hand that has the needles in it, and my vision clears. I see the plain white walls of a hospital, monitors beeping behind me. I'm sore, my throat burns like there's a fire roaring up it. I cough then suck in a wheezing breath. The sound of footsteps rushing towards me signals a sudden urge to feign sleep, but I keep my eyes open and wait for the worst.

Veridia throws open the blind, her eyes red but her face a terror. She's seething.

"Did I-" she huffs, barely recognizable through her flushed face and trembling voice. "Did I not- Haymitch, you are the worst Victor I have ever had the displeasure of meeting." She huffs and puff as her eyes well with tears. "I'm sorry I failed you." I shake my head a little as she comes bustling over to me, sitting on the edge of the bed, hand on my leg. She begins to weep, but no tears come. I wonder if she can actually cry. Maybe she had surgery to stop herself. I pull my leg away and turn away from her.

"Get me out of here. I'm fine." I mutter.

"You missed dinner," she says abruptly. "With the Mayor."

"I don't care." I reply. I'm seething now too. I'm angry and hurt and astonished that she could be so… stupid. "Don't you understand, don't you get it? By now you should, and the fact that you don't makes you more insane than I already thought you were." She looks taken aback, removes her hand from my ankle. "I don't care-" I repeat, my voice rising, "about ANY of this. This-" I gesture around, though a hospital room makes for a bad representation. "This doesn't matter. My family is dead." A sob rips through me. The first sob I've allowed myself to have since they died. It makes breathing hard. I can barely see. I can feel hands on me, and I fight them off, screaming, wailing.

My family is dead.

This is the thought I wake to and the thought I sleep by. It punishes me in the day, though the more drunk I am the easier it is to forget. When we get back on the train, Veridia does not station a new guard in front of the bar car, just gives me a hollow look and turns towards the dining car. I stand for a moment, shocked and overwhelmed. Then I turn, and make my way into the car that contains the sweet sensation of burning relief. When I enter, the Avox who served me before my speech in Five is gone, and for a moment I'm horrified. But the moment passes, and I'm left with that sick numbness that swallowed me from the second Maysilee died and my family died and everyone left.

Love hadn't ever been easy for me. It didn't come over me in the same way that it did for other people. James and his love for Maggie kills me. It feels unreal. James, my best friend, feels unreal. Separated from me. Everything does. Maysilee does now, too. But she'd been different, for a time. There was a moment when things weren't quite so bad. Even trapped inside the Capitol, they weren't quite so bad.

* * *

 _The air here is clean, but stagnant. It feels trapped in by the mountains surrounding it, though fast and hard gusts of wind carry people's dresses or coats away from their bodies in furious whippings of fabric. I stand on the roof here, unsure if I'm allowed to be up here. It's beautiful. The wind is so fast I can barely hear anything above the wind chimes that are hung, scattered almost, across the branches of trees or down below in shrubbery. I'm not sure why there's a garden up here. But I stand, feeling the wind whip around me and watching the people move below me like ants, calloused and cavalier and uncaring. I could try to jump, but something tells me I wouldn't be able to. I feel heavier up here, anyways. Maybe it's the height._

 _There's a tap on my shoulder and I jump, spinning around, assuming I'd been caught out, that I truly wasn't supposed to be up here. But it's… Maysilee. She's holding her hair back from her smiling face with one hand. She gestures for me to come closer in, then leans forward._

 _"It's beautiful up here." she whispers. My heart is racing. Are we being watched? They couldn't possibly hear us over the tattoo of sound that cascades from the wind chimes above us. "Why are you up here?" she continues, and she leans back, eyebrows raised. I shake my head and just smile at her. She's beautiful. Her blonde hair is thick and long and untamed. I don't know how she'd gotten away with it, but her prep team hadn't bothered it in the slightest, even during our irrefutably awful entrance. Her face is still streaked a little with black dust she wasn't able to get off, and her eyes are deeped by the liner going around them. She smiles wider and leans forward again. "Do you have a secret, Mitch?"_

 _I cock my head to one side as she leans back, her smile turned smirk. She mouths the words 'I do' and leans forward again. "I have a bottle in my room that I stole off the train. I wanted to share it with you." My heart is beating a rapid fire pattern in my chest as she puts one hand on my wrist, gently. I follow her. The stairs are dark and it's quiet in here now. I miss the loud wind chimes. I miss the deafening howl of sound that would drown out any fear I had. Maysilee leads me to her room, closing and locking the door behind us. Some semblance of privacy. Nothing is private here. She sits on her bed, patting the space next to her before leaning into the nightstand and pulling out a smaller bottle of amber liquid. Its hue entrances me, and when she offers the first sip, I happily oblige. It's sweet, sort of, but the bitter nature of the drink takes over and makes it hard to swallow. I cough after I pull the handle, reminding myself of my father who, after long days in the mine, would pull out a bottle of the clear liquid they sold at the Hob and drink one down. The memory of him pains me and makes me take another long pull of the drink. I hand it back to Maysilee but don't meet her eyes as I do. She takes a few pulls, and we sit in a comfortable silence, each locked in our own thoughts._

 _"You're funny, Mitch." she finally says after a moment. We'd finished half the bottle before she put it away, not wanting to make us both too sick to train in the morning._

 _"Why's that?" I ask. I fall back onto her bed, looking at her with my hands over my head. She leans back then flops down next to me. She rolls over and places her head on my chest, her arm wound around my waist. I'm momentarily shocked, body stiffening, but after a second I relax into it._

 _"Because you've never been able to tell when people like you." Her face is very close to mine now, her eyes heavy with drink. She tilts her head into my hand as I press it into her hair. I bring her closer… closer._

* * *

When I wake up, it's light again. The memory of Maysilee against me retreats as I stand to shower. I haven't seen my prep team in a few days. Maybe they asked to be sent ahead. Maybe they asked to be relieved. We're visiting Two today. The home of the Tribute I killed. The home of the Tribute who made me Victor. Diamond's home.

* * *

 _A/N: I could keep going for pages and pages but I want to make sure I get updates to you as quickly as possible. I hope you enjoyed this chapter and if you did please review it! Follow so you never miss an updated and I'll talk to you all another day!_


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